


like a petal, i fall

by boonki



Series: Boonki's obikin oneshots and drabbles [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, SO FLUFFY, anakin draws him a fancy bath, no beta we die like my brain cells at 3 am, obi-wan is overworked, oop i added smut, so soft, so tender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29694714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonki/pseuds/boonki
Summary: From the extremely exhausted tumblr prompt: "No more today, you're at your limit." (find me on tumblr at boonki!)Obi-wan is very tired, Anakin wants to do something nice for him. They spend some time in the bath together, and Anakin tells Obi-wan he is worthy of rest. It's fluffy and tender.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Boonki's obikin oneshots and drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201706
Comments: 14
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make me ♡＾▽＾♡
> 
> enjoy!!

Obi-wan throws a side kick that lands square in Anakin’s stomach, sending him stumbling backwards. He rolls over a shoulder, ready for the next attack. He blocks a fist to the face, and counters with a punch to Obi-wan’s stomach, which is easily batted to the side. 

They’ve been going at it for hours, lightsabers tossed to the side in favor of hand-to-hand combat. Their robes lay messily off to the side of the training room, discarded hours ago as the room sweltered in the summer heat, the pair left only in their pants rolled up at the ankles. Anakin can see Obi-wan faltering, making easy mistakes that cost him light bruises; he must be incredibly tired, just having returned lightly injured from a mission to the Outer Rim. Anakin would so much rather see Obi-wan resting and curled up over a cup of tea, or taking a nap on Anakin’s chest so he can pet his hair down and hold him. But Obi-wan had wanted to spar, and Anakin would never say no to that. 

Anakin sees the opportunity and tackles Obi-wan to the ground, straddling his bare stomach and pinning his arms above his head. Obi-wan bucks his hips to roll Anakin over, but Anakin had been prepared for that, digging his knees into the mat to keep grounded. Both of their chests are heaving, and a droplet of sweat drips off of Anakin’s chin and onto Obi-wan’s neck. 

“I think we should call it quits for today, old man.” Anakin releases his grip on Obi-wan’s wrists and perches back on his heels, looking down at him. 

Obi-wan smirks. “And stop while you’re ahead? No, let’s go again.” He makes to get up, pushing his elbows into the mat, but Anakin stops him with a hand to his chest. 

“I’m serious. No more today, you’re at your limit. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Anakin’s tone is serious as he can be, his eyebrows raised, features stern. 

Obi-wan falls back to the ground, closing his eyes as he catches his breath. “As far as I was aware, it’s  _ you  _ hurting  _ me, _ but point taken, love. You win.” 

Anakin leans down and pecks a kiss to his cheek, tasting salt, and stretches his lips in a wide smile. “I’ll grab us dinner from Dex’s and I’ll meet you back in our quarters, okay?” He shifts his weight to the side so he can slide off of Obi-wan, wincing at the ache in his already sore muscles. “And go shower? You need one.” 

Obi-wan shoots him a wry look. “What, you don’t like the smell of sweat? I can’t, anyhow, I have to go report to the council first.” 

“Do you want your usual?” Anakin ignores his sarcasm and hops to his feet, making his way towards their forgotten robes, wishing he had remembered to bring a towel with him. 

“Of course, darling.” Obi-wan answers from the floor, still lying on his back with his arms stretched out above his head. 

Anakin dons his robes loosely, grabbing his ‘saber from the floor, and takes in the sight: Obi-wan is covered in a thin sheen of sweat, making him glow, and his hair is pushed back, giving him an oddly attractive tousled look. Anakin’s dick twitches in his pants, wanting to do nothing more than take him apart right then and there. But the desire to get some food in Obi-wan and see him rest and relax overwhelms the sexual urge. There will be time for that later on, no doubt. 

He makes his way back to Obi-wan in easy, long strides and squats down, kissing him sideways, holding his sweaty head in between his palms. “I’m serious, you stink. The council can wait. Go shower.” 

Obi-wan snorts. “No, they really can’t. Tell Dex I said hello.” 

____

Anakin shuffles through Padme’s favorite body shop, where she used to drag him when they had briefly dated years prior. He never would’ve admitted it to her, but he relished the fancy baths she had created for them, and had returned to the shop alone innumerable times since they politely ended things. His body always thanked him after a hot soak. 

With how tired Obi-wan seemed when he had come back from his mission and padded into their quarters earlier, and how sore he must be after today’s intense practice, Anakin wants to do something special for him. Besides, they’ve barely been able to spend time together because of the war, and Anakin misses it just being the two of them. He hopes the bath won’t be too much for Obi-wan, but he knows the man has a soft spot for fancy things under that rigid exterior. 

The shop is crammed and dense, with low ceilings littered with dried flowers hanging upside down, casting a faint rose hue over the entire place. Soaps in muted colors, wrapped in bright shades of paper line the walls, leading down to the wooden tables that hold syrupy oils and linen bags of flowers and herbs. Coarse soaps and lotions in clear tubs sit in wire baskets underneath the tables. The whole room smells like a meadow in bloom, and Anakin eyes the candles burning in the corners of the room in consideration. 

Thankfully, he’s the only one in the shop currently, so he can take his time picking the right products. He pops the cork out of a bottle of bath oil and takes a whiff: light, and flowery, with a faint hint of jasmine. Throwing it in his cart, he adds some cream soap, and, hesitating a little, a bag of assorted flower petals to hover on the surface of the water. He already has floating candle lights for the bath at home. 

“Are you all set?” Sasha, the elegant female Twi’lek that owns the shop, leans against the register, eyeing him fondly. She used to tease him all the time about coming here alone, but they’ve moved past that, into a tentative friendship. 

“Yeah.” He slides his basket onto the counter between them. 

She eyes his items, cocking an eyebrow. “Is this for someone special?” 

He can feel the blood rushing into his cheeks and ears, but doesn’t want to admit it one way or the other. “Maybe.” 

She barks out a laugh at his bashfulness. “Lucky person, whoever it is.” 

“Uh.” He doesn’t really know how to answer that. “Thanks?” 

Her smile is playful, like he’s a child that just said something particularly cute. With the efficiency of someone who’s been doing it for years, she rings out the total and wraps all the items up in a paper satchel, sliding it back across the counter at him. 

“That’s going to be 83 credits.” 

He really hopes the council doesn’t look into his expenses, he wouldn’t know what to tell them. 

____

The door to their quarters swings open cautiously and Anakin peeps inside, worried that he took too long. After popping by the body shop, he swung by Dex’s as promised, and Dex had wanted to catch up, and rightfully so; it had been too long. Anakin had shifted from foot to foot the entire time though, anxious about getting home to draw the bath before Obi-wan returned from meeting with the council. But Dex is a viable source of information, a fantastic cook, and most importantly, a long time and loyal friend, so Anakin had plastered a good natured grin on his face and quieted the nag of unease in his stomach. 

The living room and kitchen is quiet, and Anakin doesn’t hear any noise coming from either the ‘fresher or their bedrooms. Anakin is in the clear. 

He drops the food off unceremoniously onto the kitchen counter, throwing his outer robes over a chair on his way to the ‘fresher, bag of goods in hand. Flipping on the light, he starts up the hot water and pulls out the candle lights that sit underneath the sink. As the scalding water rises to the top, he pours in the oil and soap, and sprinkles the flower petals across the water, deliberately placing the candle lights in last so he could perfect their destination. They glow to life as soon as they make contact with the water, and Anakin smiles at the sight. 

Stretching back up to stand, he turns the light off and shifts the door shut, letting the dim incandescence float through the room, a heavy orange that immediately adds intimacy to the space.

He has to admit, he’s outdone himself. 

Then: a creak of a door hinge, the shuffling of tired steps, and crinkling of the take-out bag as Obi-wan no doubts sneaks a fry in before Anakin catches him. 

Anakin bounds back to the kitchen, like a child bursting at the seams. 

“I have a surprise, before we eat,” he says to Obi-wan’s back. (He  _ is _ sneaking a fry.)

“That’s never good.” Obi-wan replies, turning around to lean back against the counter, chewing thoughtfully. 

“All my surprises are good surprises.” 

“Oh, like the time you superglued my datapad to the ceiling so I would pay more attention to you? You could have just asked, dear one.” 

Anakin huffs, and covers the distance between them in two short strides, nudging Obi-wan towards the ‘fresher, covering both of Obi-wan’s eyes with his hands. 

“Just,” Anakin murmurs, “trust me on this one.” 

They lumber towards the ‘fresher, Anakin pushing a blinded Obi-wan forwards with each step. When they make their way to the entrance, Anakin stops them, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Smells good, at the very least.” Obi-wan hums, in no hurry to have his sight back. 

Anakin, however, cannot wait and eagerly pulls his hands back, watching Obi-wan’s face for a reaction. 

The smile begins in Obi-wan’s eyes as they crinkle, and then it moves down to his cheeks and into his mouth, which is pulled back in a twisted, tender way. Joy sings through every feature, and Anakin is elated. 

Obi-wan turns his head to look at him, his gaze tender. “Is this for me?” 

Anakin bites the inside of his cheek. “For us, to share, if you want. Unless you want to be alone, I’m more than happy to go lay down, but I thought-” 

“For us, then.” Obi-wan leans in and kisses him on the jaw, already undressing. For the second time that day, Anakin looks down at a small heap of clothing. He closes the ‘fresher door behind them. 

As soon as he slides his legs into the water, Obi-wan moans, and Anakin, no matter how many times he’s heard it, blushes, his breath quickening. Obi-wan is somehow both the most proper, and most obscene person Anakin has ever had the good graces of knowing. 

The petals dance away from Obi-wan, ripples in the water sending them cascading in circles. “Come on, then,” he says to Anakin, who is still staring down at him with a dopey smile on his face. 

Anakin makes quick work of his clothing, standing naked next to the bath. He motions for Obi-wan to lean forward so he can nestle in behind him. 

The water is still piping hot, almost uncomfortably so, but Anakin makes a small  _ ahh _ noise at the feeling of it on his sore muscles. He snakes his legs on each side of Obi-wan, pulling him back so that Obi-wan’s back lays flush against his chest, having to shoo a candle light out of the way. It bumbles along their sides, and out towards their entangled legs, illuminating the peachy bubbles and sunset tinged petals that bob in their wake. Obi-wan tilts his head back, resting it on Anakin’s shoulder, and sighs in contentment. 

He drops a kiss on Obi-wan’s temple, breathing him in, his arms finding their home around Obi-wan’s waist. The skin on Obi-wan chest, arms, and face glimmer in the candlelight, flickering orange, more radiant than any Tatooine sunset, and Anakin wants to fall face first into the radiant gleam of his heart, wants to crawl into Obi-wan’s chest and bask in the warmth of his love, his light. 

“This is lovely,” Obi-wan whispers, fluttering his eyes closed. “Thank you.” 

Anakin’s hold around his middle tightens a bit in response, trailing a hand up and down Obi-wan’s stomach in repetition, a mindless gesture. “You seem tired lately.”

Obi-wan turns his head toward Anakin’s, resting his forehead in the crook of Anakin’s neck. He doesn’t get a response for a few heartbeats, and Anakin wonders if Obi-wan heard him. And then: 

“Well, we are at war.” Obi-wan’s tone is flat, nondescript. Anakin knows Obi-wan is mincing his words for his sake, and as a bad habit of holding tight to all of his problems, like sharing them would break him. Anakin wants to share the load with him, help carrying the burden. 

“Are you sure that’s all?” He mumbles into Obi-wan’s humid forehead, sweat beginning to glisten at his hairline from the searing water.

Obi-wan lets out the faintest of sighs through his nose, carefully considering his response. “I wish I…,” he grabs Anakin’s hands in the water, laying them on top and threading his fingers into Anakin’s, “I wish I could help more. Do more. None of it ever feels enough.” 

Anakin gazes over their tangled legs, barely visible underneath the bubbles drifting over the surface, and aches all over at the thought of Obi-wan feeling inadequate. He wishes Obi-wan could see himself as Anakin sees him: brave, selfless, the entire backbone of the war, and a brilliant General and inspiring leader. Anakin has, and would a million times over, follow him into the depths of hell. The petals stick to their skin, creating a small halo of reds and purples where their bodies meet the water.

“You’re doing enough.” Anakin sighs. “You barely sleep, you’re always doing briefings and writing reports, and when we’re finally on a break you’re off training younglings, sitting in for the council, kriffing asking for  _ sparring _ practice.” He huffs a laugh of disbelief into Obi-wan’s hairline. “You practically run this war yourself sometimes. When do you ever rest?” 

Obi-wan is silent for some time, probably thinking of some way to deflect everything. He comes back with rare and unusual honesty. “It feels selfish, taking time for myself when I know there are people out there dying. Innocent people.” 

Anakin scoffs. “How are you supposed to help them if you’re ready to keel over yourself, hm?” 

“We’re jedi, that’s what we do. Besides,” Obi-wan rubs his face on Anakin’s neck, tone turning sweet, “I have you to make sure I don’t.” 

Anakin grins into the wet curve of his head, his hair plastered to his skull from the steam wafting up around them, making the edges of the room disappear into a soft and warm fog. 

“You’re enough, and you deserve rest.” He plants an overdone kiss on Obi-wan’s skull, rougher than usual to make a point. 

Obi-wan hums noncommittally and tightens his hold on Anakin’s hands, somehow sinking further into Anakin’s chest. 

He squeezes once and then untangles his fingers from Obi-wan’s hold to trace over his body. The tops of his thighs are as far as Anakin can reach, so he starts there, letting his fingertips graze over sensitive and supple skin, over soft hair and old scars. He moves to the base of Obi-wan’s stomach, purposefully ignoring his cock in favor of showering him with pure adoration and affection. He’ll let his hands wander there after they’ve eaten and gotten into bed. 

Anakin loves the broad plain of Obi-wan’s chest, loves to rest his head on it after a long day, so he spends extra time there, dragging his fingernails across the pink skin, smoothing the sting down with the flat of his palm. He glides up to Obi-wan’s neck and into the base of his auburn hair, gently massaging the tense bundles of nerves that always seem to gather after a long and stressful day, and Obi-wan melts into him, humming sleepily. 

Overwhelmed that Obi-wan is  _ his _ , that this breathtaking man is resting in his arms, seeping into his chest and finding home in his heart, he can’t help but want to stay like this forever: clean, warm, safe, and  _ together _ . 

“You’re so beautiful,” Anakin breathes out, voice cracking, “and I love you so much.” 

The petals gleam in agreement, hovering in reverence near him, their red hues like Anakin’s beating heart, holding Obi-wan in place. He understands their predicament; he, too, would bloom and fall and bloom and fall for this man, would reach out as far as he can from the wet and mossy ground to be regarded and gazed at, plucked and taken home. Even if it meant dying, wilting away, it would be worth it to be held near his face, to be carefully tucked into a vase to watch over him in the final days. Him and these flowers are one and the same, always gravitating towards the brightest point in the room, his sun, his reason for blooming. 

Soft and slow breaths escape Obi-wan, and his chest evens out in a regular cadence. He must have fallen asleep.  _ Good,  _ Anakin thinks. 

Anakin holds him close and watches the bubbles pop, one by one, as the time passes. Candlelight reflects off of the still surface of the water, the rise and fall of Obi-wan’s chest the only movement causing faint ripples. This is the closest he’s come to meditation lately, and it feels so wonderful. 

He’s not sure what time it is, and can’t be bothered to care if anyone has comm’d him. Here in the four corners of their shared space is Anakin’s entire universe, and bliss simmers in his chest. 

Anakin’s fingers are starting to prune and sweat drips off of chin. The water is starting to cool, though, and if Obi-wan hadn’t been stuck to his body, he probably would want to get out. He doesn’t want to wake him though, as sleep is rare and precious these days. 

His stomach, however, has a different idea, and growls loudly, startling Obi-wan awake, who chuckles at the sound. 

“Maybe we should go eat that food you brought back,” he teases. 

Anakin can’t help the guilty smile that creeps its way onto his face. “How does eating and going back to sleep sound?” 

“Sounds like the best plan you’ve ever improvised, my dear.” 

Anakin makes a  _ psh _ noise. “I don’t ever improvise.” 

Obi-wan scoffs, a high pitched laugh from the back of his throat. “So this was all planned, then?” 

Anakin sees the opportunity and takes it. “What, falling in love with you? No, but that has been my greatest achievement this far.” 

Obi-wan raises his head from Anakin’s shoulder and meets him at eye level, twisting his body around to kiss Anakin deeply, biting his lower lip and sucking. Anakin snakes a hand to the back of his head and kisses back, trying to pour all his love, his entire heart, all of him, into Obi-wan’s mouth. He wants Obi-wan to pluck him, and know  _ he loves me, he loves me, he loves me _ with the pull of each petal. 

Obi-wan breaks their kiss and leans back, staring into his eyes. “Well, unlike you, I  _ do _ actually plan, and my greatest achievement this far will be devouring the order of fries waiting for me in the kitchen.” 

Anakin laughs, and flicks water at his face.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....welcome to my first ever porn chapter, what's good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don't know what happened. But this scene hit me while I was showering earlier and then I rushed to get it out of my head and... well. Y'know. Smut. 
> 
> This is my first smut scene so... be gentle lmao writing it is harder than it initially appears

_Anakin laughs, and flicks water at his face._

Obi-wan wipes it off, dragging a wet hand across his face, staring at Anakin’s lips. A moment passes between them, and all the playful banter drowns in the water, the room seeming to darken with Obi-wan’s eyes as they flick up and down between Anakin’s eyes and mouth. He can feel the energy shift, crackling electric.

“Maybe they can wait, actually.”

And then Obi-wan is crowding into him, biting and sucking on his lower lip, arched above him like a viper and its prey, cupping his face. He repositions himself to straddle Anakin, wet droplets from his hair dripping onto Anakin’s shoulders, rolling down and caressing his chest, leaving a trail of sensitive goosebumps in their wake.

Anakin loves when he’s like this, all relaxed and possessive, smooth like honey. He loves when Obi-wan pours himself into their kisses, like he’s trying to drown Anakin with hungry affection, the intoxicating push and pull a rhythm they fall into as naturally as breathing. And he loves being trapped under Obi-wan, with nowhere to go and nothing to do but _take._

There’s a hand grazing up his side, a thumb over his nipple, and then fingers latching themselves into the hair on the back of his skull. They tug, snapping Anakin’s head back as Obi-wan sucks on his tongue, pulling him apart completely. His cock twitches, ignored underneath the cooling water, and he shifts in place, searching for friction. He hears himself whine, needy, wanting, and the sound reverberates around the room, echoing his own desire back at him.

Obi-wan pulls away, but only far enough to talk, still connected by their foreheads, and Anakin can feel his breath on his lips, could tilt his chin up and lick a line across the crease of Obi-wan’s mouth if he wanted. “I want…” Obi-wan breathes out, nuzzling his face into Anakin’s.

“Anything,” Anakin murmurs, holding his eyelids half open to wander down Obi-wan’s body. “I’ll give you anything. What do you want?”

Obi-wan has made it back to his ear, nibbling his way down the cuff and resting his teeth around his earlobe. Anakin shivers, his nerves tingling all the way down his spine and into his cock. “I want to fuck your beautiful face, my love.”

When Obi-wan leans back, Anakin opens his eyes and really looks at Obi-wan. His body is slick with water, water that reflects the hazy molten of the candles around them, painting him in oranges and reds; Anakin thinks he looks like a statue of old, all toned and chiseled muscle above him, a statue on fire, burning, hot. He looks like a god, all power and strength in his body, and all lust and greediness in glistening eyes. The water dances down him in rivulets, in the dips of his muscles, and Anakin wants to lean forward and lick each indentation, taste the salt of his skin.

Obi-wan takes his other hand from Anakin’s chest and runs a thumb across Anakin’s mouth, pressing it inside, and Anakin can’t help it, he dips his hands under the water to pump Obi-wan’s cock, the heavy feeling of it in his hand making blood rush out of his head. His desire is liquid, and he is bathing in it. He sucks on Obi-wan’s thumb, looking up at him through misty eyelashes. He touches himself then, and it feels like gold, weeping bright tears into all of his limbs. 

“You’re so pretty like that, dear.” Obi-wan hums, letting his head fall back onto his shoulders slightly, lost in the feeling of Anakin’s hand wrapped around him, his velvety tongue around his thumb.

And then Obi-wan is raising himself out of the bath, just enough to rest a knee on the side of the tub next to Anakin’s head, bringing his cock to eye level. He takes his hand out of Anakin’s mouth and runs it through Anakin’s hair, smoothing it down, and cups the back of his head, pushing him forward. Anakin complies, opening his lips and sliding his tongue down the underside of Obi-wan’s cock, reveling in the silky skin. He tastes like wildflowers from the bath, with an undercurrent of something dark and heady, singularly Obi-wan.

“God, you’re so good for me, fuck—look at you.” Obi-wan moans, music to Anakin’s ears and he pushes himself inside, until his tip is at the back of Anakin’s throat. Anakin breathes through his nose, ignoring the sting of tears that gather at the corners of his eyes—he’s going to be good for Obi-wan, going to take whatever Obi-wan gives him.

With a hand threaded into Anakin’s hair, Obi-wan drags himself out slowly, and then back in, rolling his hips lazily, causing ripples in the bathwater. An audible breath draws out of his lungs, an almost moan. Anakin, still languidly moving a hand over his own cock, uses his other hand to cup Obi-wan’s ass, slide down and grip his sturdy thigh. Everything is dreamy, drowsy, smooth and unhurried, just how Obi-wan likes it.

And Anakin has no problem treating Obi-wan’s body with reverence.

Obi-wan moves like that for a few heartbeats, until his arousal gets the best of him, his hips stuttering and jerking in desire. He picks up his pace, holding Anakin’s head in place and fucking into his mouth, letting his precum trail down the back of Anakin’s throat. Anakin moans around his cock at the feeling, doing his best to swallow what he can. Everything is so much, so good, potent and overwhelming.

Laziness turns into heat, into friction as Anakin starts pumping himself with purpose, lost in the feeling of Obi-wan snapping in and out of his mouth. And then Obi-wan is whining, nonsense tumbling out of his lips. “Fuck, Anakin, you’re so—fuck, you feel so good, I’m gonna…”

Anakin comes into the water, shaking with the effort of holding himself in place for Obi-wan as the orgasm rolls through him, the gold flooding his entire body. Obi-wan follows right after, pressing himself into Anakin as far as he can go, until Anakin’s head is flush with the wall behind him, nearly choking him. Obi-wan’s come is salty and tangy in his mouth, and Obi-wan pulls out, sinking back into the bath to taste himself on Anakin’s tongue. They melt together, chest to chest, coming down from their highs. The gold is lingering, simmering underneath Anakin’s skin, all pleasure and bliss.

The only sound whispering around the room is their labored breaths, and the faint trickle of water, dripping off the edge of the tub from where Obi-wan had been leaning.

“Obi-wan?” Anakin starts, his voice hoarse.

Obi-wan makes a _hmm?_ noise in response, resting his face in the crook of Anakin’s neck.

“The bath is really cold. Can you get off of me?”

Obi-wan snickers, and lifts himself up slowly, snaking down to press one more kiss at the corner of Anakin’s mouth, as if in tender thanks.

“And Obi-wan?”

Obi-wan looks down at him expectantly, cocking an eyebrow, a fond expression exposing his heart on display.

“I love you.”

He’s met with a gradual smile, more of a twinkle in Obi-wan’s eyes than anything else.

“I love you, too, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm in horny jail now ＜(。_。)＞


End file.
